


Disaster

by lunarlychallenged



Series: Newsies x Reader - Hogwarts Edition [2]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Hogwarts AU, Hufflepuff!Crutchie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 08:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15577392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarlychallenged/pseuds/lunarlychallenged
Summary: Experimental Ravenclaws were grenades, but Crutchie didn't mind being in the blast zone.





	Disaster

Madame Pomfrey sighed when you entered the Hospital Wing on a stretcher. “Again?”

“I had an idea,” you mumbled.

“A stupid one,” she said, eying the boils on your hands. She poked one; it opened up, a smelly blue liquid spilling out. “What did you do?”

“I had this idea in Potions - if I could find a way to make the body expel the smoke from a Pepperup Potion some other way -”

“More experimentation,” Pomfrey said. She saw a lot more of you than she wanted to. You had joked once that she should thank you; it must be nice to have interesting cases instead of basic healing, right?

She was not amused.

“Mr. Morris?” She shouted the name over her shoulder, jotting something down on her clipboard.

Crutchie, a Hufflepuff in your year, came out from behind a screen in the back of the hall of beds. He grinned at you for a second, but it dropped when he saw your hands. “Merlin, Y/N.”

“Merlin had nothing to do with this,” Pomfrey said with a sigh. “Here’s what I need you to do -”

She walked him through the steps. You listened carefully, but startled when you realized that she was putting Crutchie in charge of fixing you up. It wasn’t that you didn’t think he could; you had never realized that Pomfrey was the sort to delegate.

Crutchie turned to you, wand out. He shot you an apologetic smile. “I’m going to have to pop them.”

“Let’s get this over with.” You watched him poke the first. His eyebrows shot up when the blue billowed out. He said nothing, though he performed the Bubble-Head charm on the two of you to block out the smell.

“Did you do this, or did somebody do this to you?” His voice was warped by the bubble, but easily understood.

“Myself,” you said. “Potions.”

He laughed. “That’s, what, the third time this month?”

“How’d you know that?”

“Pomfrey offered me an internship,” he said with a hint of pride. “I’ve been on paperwork for a few weeks, but she’s ready to put me on the floor.”

“That’s awesome.” Really, it was impressive. “Maybe you could show me how to -”

“No.” When you startled, he gave you a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Y/N. I’ve been given specific instructions not to enable you.”

“From Pomfrey?”

“And McGonagall. Flitwick. Dumbledore owled me.”

You laughed, surprised. “That’s ridiculous. It isn’t enabling me to show me how to -”

He poked anther boil, giving you a pointed look when it bubbled over. “Really? It isn’t enabling you if I give you the ability to clean up your own messes? You can honestly tell me that you wouldn’t make more messes?”

You mumbled something about messes being a subjective term, and he laughed.

You watched him work, curiosity winning out over disgust. In the back of your mind, it occurred to you that this was not the way you would normally want a boy to see you. Crutchie was too kind to make his disgust obvious, but you couldn’t imagine him looking at you now without remembering this. At the forefront of your mind, you thought about alternative ways to get rid of the smoke. Boils were not ideal.

 

 

Crutchie had come to the Ravenclaw table to grab a bit of toast, and he had stayed to talk to you. 

“Have you ever had Hagrid in the Hospital Wing?” You slathered jam over your toast, trying to keep it from clumping in one spot. “I feel like he’s gotten himself in trouble before.”

“Pomfrey usually goes to him,” Crutchie said. “I don’t think he wants anybody to hear about what he’s doing down there.”

“What’s he doing?” 

Crutchie looked around quickly, clearly wanting to keep others from hearing. “I don’t know, but he gets an awful lot of burns. Stings, sometimes. I heard her say once that Hagrid makes things.”

You felt yourself go starry eyed, but you couldn’t stop the excitement at the thought of it. “Creatures? He breeds his own creatures?”

“Y/N,” Crutchie said. His eyes narrowed. “No.”

“I should go down there.” You were talking more to yourself now, imagining combinations of creatures that may be compatible. “Maybe I could help. It isn’t illegal for me to do magic, after all, so maybe -”

Crutchie put a hand on your shoulder. “No. Don’t. I’m pretty sure that you’ve gotten enough detentions to get kicked out of school already. If you do something overtly against the rules, you’re toast.”

“Is that a pun?” Without pausing to get an answer, you shoved your breakfast in your mouth. “Nevermind. I’m going down there. If I get hurt, can I come to you directly? Don’t want to get caught, now.”

He groaned. “I never should have told you.”

“You’re wonderful,” you grinned. “I knew being your friend would make life more fun.”

“We’re friends?”

You paused, bag dangling from one hand. “Of course we are. You’re my partner in crime, now. It’s unavoidable.”

You dashed out of the Great Hall, hoping Hagrid would show you whatever he was hiding in the hut. As you left, you heard Crutchie muttering about making a mistake. When you peeked over your shoulder while pushing the door open, you saw a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

 

 

“You really don’t want to be my partner,” you told Crutchie.

“I think I do,” he said.

“I get dreadful marks,” you said. 

“You’re brilliant,” he scoffed. “Ravenclaw, through and through.”

He was right about that, but not in the way he thought. You did love to learn. Sometimes it felt like there was nothing human in you, just pulsing curiosity. It seemed as though if you weren’t careful, you would lose yourself in questions about how magic worked, and how you could improve it.

“It doesn’t translate into my homework,” you said. Why did he want to be your partner in NEWT level Charms? He surely wanted to do well, and you were not the way to get there.

“It does in mine,” he said confidently. “Between the two of us, we’re bound to do something smashing.”

“I’m very good at smashing,” you quipped, “but not in a good way.”

When he laughed, you knew you would have to give in. The fact that Crutchie wanted to be near you, even knowing how unpredictable your work was, was a magic that you did not understand. 

 

 

“I have a very personal question,” you said. “It really isn’t any of my business, but I’d like to ask it anyway.”

Crutchie looked up at you over the bottle of Skele-Gro. You were sipping at a cup of it, avoiding his eyes. “Okay, shoot.”

“I just - you’re a really good Healer.”

“That isn’t a question,” he said, “but thanks.”

“And there are other very talented Healers,” you said. You grimaced when your right foot started to tingle again. It was at times like this that you regretted testing new spells on yourself. Maybe you should try to be more certain it would work, first. In a way, it had. You had been aiming for invisibility, and the bones in your foot were certainly gone. You had figured out the Pepperup Potion, so maybe this would be within reach, too.

“I’m not sure that you know what a question is, Y/N.”

“Why haven’t you healed your leg? Why didn’t somebody else heal your leg?” The questions made your chest ache. You wanted to know the answer; it had been eating at you since you met him first year. You usually weren’t great at knowing the boundaries of knowledge, but even you knew that you shouldn’t ask. Now that the two of you were friends, you just thought that maybe it would be okay.

“Ah,” Crutchie said. He studiously looked at the label of the Potion. “That.”

“You don’t have to answer -”

“This was as good as it got,” he said. “Kids can’t control their own magic, not at first. Sometimes it acts outside the person, but sometimes it acts inside.”

You felt sick. “You?”

“Me,” he agreed. “I was young, Y/N. Young and alone. The Healers weren’t really sure what I did, but my leg was ruined when I got to St. Mungos. A curse, maybe, or just some thoroughly destructive magic. They put it back together as well as they could, but the body is - it’s intricate.”

“So this is your healed leg,” you said. “This was the best they could do.”

“Yep.” His voice was light, and you couldn’t tell if he was upset that you asked. He nodded at his cane, leaning against the bed. “It’s not so bad. Some wizards magic their canes and staffs. I’ve got some serious potential with mine.”

“You could put your wand in it,” you said thoughtfully. “Hiding in plain sight.”

He grinned. “Now we’re talking.”

You didn’t bring up his leg again, though you did draw up plans for a cane to beat all others.

 

 

Crutchie beamed at the ‘O’ on the top of the Charms assignment. “And here you thought we’d make a dreadful team.”

You shrugged. “I kept it together for you.”

“Self control,” he said. “Who knew you had any?”

“I certainly didn’t.” You grinned back at him. The both of you knew that you got good marks on many things; it wasn’t surprising that you did well when you put your mind to it. “You’re making an honest Ravenclaw out of me, Crutch.”

“Hopefully not too honest. Wouldn’t want things to get boring.”

You laughed when he elbowed you. “Definitely not. I practically give the Hospital Wing a purpose, all on my own.”

“You keep it lively,” he agreed. “I would probably die of boredom if you stopped coming.”

He left for Transfiguration, leaving you with a dopey smile. It was the Hufflepuff in him, you told yourself. He just knew how to rub you the right way. He probably said the same things to everybody, and he probably meant them every time. 

You did not shape up for everybody, though, which seemed like a more pressing thing to consider.

 

 

When you walked into the Hospital Wing, Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen. That was good. She would have made this awkward. When you got up in the morning, it had been with the certainty that you were ready to put yourself out on a limb. If you were willing to risk physical pain - even death, occasionally - you ought to be able to risk emotional hurt. “Crutchie? You here?”

His head popped out from behind a curtain. “Y/N, again?” He walked out, eyes narrowing when he didn’t see an immediate ailment. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” you said. “Well, nothing physical. I just needed to talk to you about something.”

He ran a hand through his hair, delight and duty warring on his face. “I shouldn’t - I’m working.”

“It’ll only take a second,” you promised. “Just a second, I swear.”

“Alright. What’s the matter?”

“I really like you,” you said. Straight to the point, as you were with everything else. “I fancy you something fierce, really. I thought you deserved to know.” Having said your piece, you turned to go. You wanted to know the answer to the question you hadn’t quite asked, but you thought you would give him time to come up with it.

“Wait.” Crutchie sounded like he was near laughing. “Aren’t you going to let me talk?”

“If you want,” you said, surprised. “Do you have something to say?”

“Just that I like you,” he said. He was beaming. “If you wanted to go to Hogsmeade for the next trip, that’d be great.”

“Amazing.” A slow, massive grin swept over your face. He liked you. He knew that you were a walking landmine, and that you liked being that way, and he still wanted to be in the blast zone. “I absolutely want that.”

“Y/N?” You had turned to go again, but Crutchie had taken on a playful tone. “Let’s try for something uneventful.”

“We can try.”

“I’ll bring a first aid kit, just in case,” he added.

You laughed. “That’s wise. I’m sort of a disaster.”

“But a wonderful one,” he said. He was practically glowing. “The best sort.”

You could work with that. A wonderful disaster. A disaster with a wonderful boy who didn’t mind cleaning up the wreckage.


End file.
